The drive home felt longer than it should've. The streets were quiet, but my mind wasn't.

By the time I pulled into the driveway, the headlights washed over her car, parked exactly where it always was.

She was home.

For a second, I just sat there, hands still on the steering wheel, the car's engine humming softly. I didn't know why I hesitated. It wasn't like we'd argued this morning. Not exactly. But the silence between us was starting to feel a lot like an argument that never ended.

Eventually, I killed the engine and got out. The night air was cool, but it did nothing to clear my head. I reached the door, hand on the handle, and stopped again.

Ridiculous, I know.

It was my own house. Our house. But lately, walking through that door felt like stepping into a test I hadn't studied for.

I pushed it open anyway and the faint smell of dinner hit me first, something warm, probably chicken. Aline was at the dining table, arranging plates like she always did.

She looked up immediately. "Good evening, Mr. Tanaka."

"Evening, Aline," I said, forcing a small smile.

"I heard your car pull in," she added quickly, smoothing her apron. "So I thought I'd get your dinner ready before it got cold."

"Thanks," I said, grateful for the normalcy in her tone.

A small pause settled between us, not uncomfortable, just... aware.

I glanced toward the stairs, then asked, "And Val?"

Aline hesitated, shifting her weight slightly. "She already had dinner, sir. Said she'd be in her office if you needed her."

My eyes flicked toward the hallway that led upstairs. Her office. The same space that had started feeling more like a wall than a room.

"Alright," I said quietly. "Thank you."

She nodded and turned to leave, but I stopped her. "Aline?"

] "Yes, sir?"

"I'll handle the dishes tonight."

She looked surprised. "Oh... are you sure?"

"Yeah," I said, giving a faint shrug. "Just... need something to do."

She smiled politely. "Of course, sir. Have a good night."

When she was gone, the silence came back, heavier this time. I sat down at the table and stared at the plate in front of me. The food looked good, but I didn't feel hungry.

I reached for the fork anyway. It was easier than thinking. Easier than wondering if she'd ever come downstairs.

But eating alone does strange things to your mind. The clinking of silverware becomes louder. The house feels too big.

And soon enough, my thoughts drifted — back to the night it started.

A little over a month ago.

---

Val had walked into the room wearing that blue dress I loved, the one that made her look both effortless and impossible to approach at the same time.

Her hair was tied up, her expression bright.

She'd said, "Dad wants to have dinner with us."

Just like that.

Out of nowhere.

I remember blinking, unsure if I'd heard her right. "Dinner?"

"Mm-hm." She'd smiled, setting her laptop aside. "He said he's been a little too cold toward you and he wants to change that. You know, start over."

I frowned. "He said that?"

She nodded, grin widening. "His exact words were, 'I've been too hard on the boy.'"

"Boy," I'd repeated under my breath, earning an eye roll from her.

"Don't start," she'd said, laughing. "It's a good thing, husband. He's finally trying. You've been saying you wanted him to at least make an effort, and now he is. So please don't ruin it with that look."

I wanted to believe her.

God, I did.

But even back then, something about it felt off.

"Are you sure it wasn't your idea?" I asked.

She shrugged playfully. "Okay, maybe I suggested it—" she paused, grinning when I raised a brow, "—a lot. Like, several times. But he agreed! Which is rare, so that's progress."

She'd looked genuinely happy about it. Hopeful, even. Like maybe that dinner could fix years of quiet tension between me and her parents.

And the truth was, things between her and her dad had finally started getting better, something I knew she'd always wanted but never really admitted.

I still don't know how it happened. She said she didn't either, but sometime during her master's — and even more after she came back — he started treating her differently. Like he was actually proud of her. Maybe because she'd proven herself in the one way he respected most: by being brilliant. By being Celestia Valentina Moreau.

She'd started reporting to him often after that, updating him about projects, sharing ideas, even when she didn't have to. It was the kind of connection she'd craved her whole life, and I couldn't bring myself to take that from her.

So when she looked at me that night, smiling, her eyes full of something I hadn't seen in a while, I couldn't say no.

Her mother, though, was still the same — polite, distant, and cold enough to make you wonder if she even noticed the air around her.

"Alright," I'd told her. "If you really want to, we'll go."

Her face lit up instantly. "Really?"

"Really," I said, trying to sound casual, but my tone came out tighter than I meant. My mind was already spinning, overthinking every possible version of how that dinner could go wrong.

She smiled softly, leaned closer, and cupped my cheek with both hands. "You'll be fine," she said gently. "He's just… complicated."

"Complicated's one word for it," I muttered.

"Don't overthink it," she'd said softly. "It's just dinner."

But it wasn't just dinner.

And I should've known better.

I sat there now, staring at the untouched food in front of me, her laughter echoing faintly in my memory.

Because whatever I thought that would happen that night, whatever I thought Charlie George Moreau wanted, it wasn't what I got.

And no matter how much I'd prepared myself for the worst,

I didn't see that coming.

---

The Moreau mansion always felt like a museum — too quiet, too polished, and somehow colder the longer you stayed in it.

But that night, when Val and I stepped inside, it felt… almost normal. There was soft jazz playing somewhere in the background, and the faint smell of roasted lamb drifted from the dining room.

Charlie greeted us first.

"Kai," he said, his voice smooth, practiced. "Glad you could make it."

"Thank you for having me, sir," I replied, shaking his hand. His grip was firm, but his eyes gave nothing away.

He smiled faintly, gesturing toward the sitting area. "Come, sit. Celestia's been telling us you've been keeping quite busy at Gray and Milton."

Val nudged me lightly with her shoulder as we sat. "Told you he keeps tabs on you."

Charlie chuckled. "Hard not to, when my daughter won't stop bragging. Senior Financial Analyst now, isn't that right?"

"Yes, sir," I said, trying to sound calm. "It's been… busy, but good."

"Busy and good," he repeated with a nod, pouring himself a glass of wine. "Two words that rarely go together in business, but I like that optimism. Maybe we could use more of that at Moreau Dynamics."

I wasn't sure if that was a compliment or a setup, so I just smiled politely.

Across from us, Helen Moreau sat perfectly still, her posture flawless, her gaze sharp. She hadn't said more than two words since we walked in. Every time I glanced her way, she was studying me, quietly, critically, like she was waiting to find a flaw.

Charlie continued the small talk. "How's work treating you? Gray & Milton's been making waves lately. That infrastructure bid everyone's whispering about, you're part of that, aren't you?"

"Yes," I said. "It's been the company's main focus these past few weeks."

He hummed, satisfied. "Good. That's impressive." Then he lifted his glass slightly in a mock toast. "To progress."

Val smiled, almost glowing at his tone. She leaned closer, her hand brushing mine under the table. A soft squeeze. A quiet see, I told you he's cool.

And for the first time that evening, I believed her.

Dinner went smoothly after that. The conversation danced between travel stories and random news headlines. Val laughed through most of it, and even Helen managed a polite smile when Charlie cracked a joke about newlyweds and burnt toast.

For a moment, it almost felt like a real family dinner.

Then, when the plates were cleared and the house staff disappeared, Charlie dabbed his mouth with a napkin and looked at me. "Walk with me, Kai. Let's talk, man to man."

Val's eyes lit up, hopeful.

"I won't be long," I said quickly, forcing a small smile.

She nodded and squeezed my hand again before turning to her mother, who immediately went back to staring at her wine glass.

Charlie led me down the hall into his study, a wide room lined with shelves, the smell of leather and old money hanging in the air. He didn't sit right away. He went to the minibar, poured himself another drink, then finally turned to face me.

"I'll cut straight to the point, Kai," he said. His tone was calm, almost cordial, but there was no warmth in it. "I still don't think you're good for Celestia."

The words hit harder than I expected, even though I'd been bracing for them since the day I first met him.

He continued, swirling his glass. "But I'm also a businessman. I believe in opportunities. And I think this could be one... for both of us."

I didn't say anything. I just waited.

He smiled faintly. "You're in a position most people would kill for, Kai. Gray & Milton is one of the top contenders for the infrastructure bid. Moreau Dynamics is also pursuing it. It would be... beneficial if you could help even the playing field a little."

I blinked, unsure if I heard him right. "You want me to help you win the bid?"

He shrugged, as if it were nothing. "Call it evening the odds. You're family now, aren't you? Why not be useful for once?"

I took a breath, trying to stay composed. "With all due respect, sir, that's not something I can do. I have a contract. There are confidentiality agreements—"

"Oh, don't give me that legal nonsense," he interrupted smoothly. "You're smarter than that. I'm not asking for secrets. Just... insights. A little guidance."

"I'm sorry," I said quietly, standing a little straighter. "I can't."

His polite expression vanished, replaced by a thin smile that didn't reach his eyes. "You realize how easy it would be for me to make things difficult for you, right? For your career. For Celestia."

I clenched my fists. "Are you threatening me?"

He took a sip of his drink, unfazed. "I'm simply giving you a choice."

We stared at each other in silence for a long moment. Then I turned toward the door.

"Dinner was great," I said evenly. "Thank you for having us."

His voice followed me out. "You'll regret this, Kai."

When I reached the living room, Val was already waiting, her face lighting up when she saw me. "Hey, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

I smiled, small, tired, forced. "No. Not bad."

We said our goodbyes and left soon after.

She talked the whole drive home, her voice bright, filling the quiet. I just nodded when she spoke, pretending to listen.

Because all I could hear was her father's voice echoing in my head.

"You'll regret this, Kai."

---

To be continued...

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